


Mine!

by Questions3



Series: Fuzzy Footed Foolishness [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bilbo, Beating, F/M, Female Bilbo, Jealousy, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No touchy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine!

**Author's Note:**

> Unexpected sequel to 'Hats of to Ya'. Sorry?

            She was the picture of propriety as she sat there in the overlarge armchair. Legs crossed, hands together at the knees, face politely neutral. One would, or course, have to ignore the bloodied lip and the purpling eye, and her hair was a curly mess of black tangles under an overlarge, crumpled, brown furr hat, but at least _she_ wasn’t miss a chunk of it from her own scalp. Her clothes were torn in places, she was fairly certain she was missing a sleeve and her hands were tightly locked around what appeared to be a bloodied bit of braid. They were also bloodied a bit but that went without saying. One did not have their face bludgeoned without giving something of themselves back, and from the looks of the mangled bit of scalp she hadn’t come away the loser of this particular altercation.

            Bilbo sighed as she continued to sit and wait for Thorin to come back and do away with her. When she’d been brought into the office she’d been screeching like a fiend and the King had beat a hasty retreat while she started flinging his possessions about, presumably to call for his lovely sister who was one of the only creatures in this blasted mountain the lass regarded as having _any_ sense. The sentiment was returned and together with Glóin’s wife the three were quickly becoming a force to reckon with.

            It had only been a year since the Battle of Five Armies, as the scholars were calling it, and the restoration of Erebor was going swimmingly. After reconciling with her new family, affianced and friends, Bilbo had been eager to see things through with the weary wanderers. There wasn’t much of a desire to return to the Shire without her soon to be husband and her in-laws, and they had been through so much to get to the bloody mountain in the first place. It was decided the family of four would remain together in Erebor, and Bofur and Bilbo would be married at the earliest opportunity. The Lady Dís’s arrival had put a small kink in that plan, seeing as she’d insisted that the two heroes of Erebor be given a Royal Wedding once the restoration of the Great Hall and Throne Room were complete. Normally Bilbo would have politely declined the honor, and Bofur wasn’t too keen on waiting for the length of time it would take to restore the old caverns before he would have his claim on his hobbit officiated, but the point that Balin made about the morale of the mountain certainly made sense. It would be a very good omen for their prosperity as a people and a city if one of the first things the newly instated King resided over was actually a marriage of two whose love had blossomed from the very quest that had led to the retaking of the mountain in the first place. As it was their new home as much as anyone else’s the pair had grudgingly allowed themselves to be forestalled for the time being (or so they told themselves as, really, once Lady Dís had set her mind to something there wasn’t a force on all Arda that would stop her from having her way, and she was bloody scary when told no).

            As conciliation, the rooms in question would be cleaned out almost immediately after the resident halls and chambers. And they were on their way not even a year later, what with the influx of eager dwarrow and their working hands. Thorin had placed each of the original Company in charge of certain tasks throughout the mountain. Happy though they were for the population boom, these were not dwarrow who’d risked all for their King and their home, as such were little known and little trusted. So while Thorin, followed by Fíli and Kíli, went about the daily running and ruling of the mountain, the rest were delegated to overseeing some of the larger tasks at hand. Dwalin, not surprisingly, was placed in charge of the Guard and training new recruits. Keeping the mountain safe and the Royal Family safer as he’d been doing for almost his entire life. Glóin had been an accountant of sorts in the Blue Mountains; as such he’d been in charge of budgeting during the quest and was now vital to cataloguing and counting the treasury. He was often in meetings with Balin, Dís, and Dori. Balin and Dís had been seeing to the reestablishment of the Guilds while Dori was working on recreating a strong market for prospective vendors and trading. Balin was one of the only dwarrow originally from Erebor, and a Master in his own right of the Scribes Guild. The Lady Dís was used to running these tasks in the Blue Mountain and had no intentions of stopping now that they were home. Dori had apparently been a Tea Merchant and was well versed in import and export. Together the four were something fierce and were readying a very strong Commerce. Bilbo would be thrown into their mix every now and again when discussions involved other races, though she was mostly found at Thorin’s side as he went about securing the tentative truce and alliance with the Elves and Men. The hobbit had been delegated a kind of envoy for the dwarrow, especially where the Elves were concerned, since she was the only one in the mountain not being bogged down by centuries of bad blood. It helped that the Elves found her entertaining and the Men curious. Apparently Hobbits were new to them and her polite demeanor was refreshing after dealing with Thorin during a sulk.

            Beyond the economy and political relations, there was the cleaning up of the Kingdom itself. Óin had, first and foremost, seen to the disinfection of the healing halls, which was possibly the wisest thing any of them had done considering the only thing dwarrow excelled at besides stone and war was bloodying themselves. There was only one other station Bilbo viewed as just as important to the maintenance of a happy healthy people and that had been the kitchens. But Bombur had cheerfully seen to that himself and was keeping the Mountain well fed throughout the day. It had been cleaned, stocked, and functioning at maximum capacity almost within a week of the war. Ori had proven to be invaluable, as he’d taken to the libraries, finding blueprints that revealed the infrastructure of the different levels in the Mountain and the mines. Armed with this knowledge the rest of the cleaning front was lead by Glóin’s wife, the lovely flamed bearded Lady Vaíl, and Bilbo was in no way abashed at being completely in awe of the woman. How she managed to remain so poised with the nonsense that went underfoot during her daily responsibilities was completely beyond the former Burglar. There were times Bilbo was certain there had to be more than one of her as she was always right in the thick of some of the most obscure messes no matter where they happened to be. Like when one of the cleaning units had managed to cause a dragon dung cave-in in the south residential caverns at the same time on the East and North sides there was an alarming infestation of Giant Cave Slugs. The mother had managed to somehow save the trapped workers, and light the slugs on fire all before lunch that very day (apparently the only difference between Giant Slugs and regular ones was the size of the fire when you poured salt over the slimy gits). Syncing with the cleaning efforts were Bofur and Bifur, both of which had been miners before toy-makers, leading the ways into the mines, clearing out debris and stabilizing the structures. What use was a Mountain if no one could make a livelihood after all?

            Nobody quite knew what the hell Nori was doing, just that he was doing it right. He’d been left to his own devices, begrudgingly on Dwalin’s part, and had managed to stop three assassination attempts on the Royal Family and a small kidnapping incident involving some xenophobes and their Hobbit. And that was only the schemes they knew about, it was plane the former thief had been less than idle the entire time they’d been repopulating the Mountain.

            But none of this explained why Bilbo found herself sitting in the King’s previously restored office (now rather in need of some tender care (especially the sofa in the corner she’d apparently accidently skewed with a battleax)). No, it explained nothing, but it was certainly a symptom of the bigger problem that had _led_ to this predicament. As had been inferred earlier, upon the restoration of the Kingdom Bilbo was to find herself hand fasted to her miner, Bofur. The pair had had ups and downs throughout the journey and come through at the end in a singular solid piece of love and devotion. This had nothing to do with Bofur or Bilbo’s feelings for one another, at least not the intensity of said feelings. No, this had everything to do with a sad and sick combination of a lack of free time and disregard for previous claim.

            With the influx of dwarrow into the mountain came, not only working hands and assassins, but eligible dwarrow who found nothing more enticing than the heroes of their Age. Thorin avoided the entire lot by being Thorin; there was no two ways about it. Should the rebuffed move onto either of his nephews they found themselves mauled by Lady Dís. And when anyone even hinted to Glóin it might be fun to explore other options, Vaíl was there with a vicious smile on her face, twining her fingers through her oblivious husbands beard. Balin would merely smile and quietly, but firmly, deny advances he didn’t appreciate, and somehow that worked for him. Dwalin had ensured himself peace to pursue his own interests by ‘accidentally’ sending one over zealous suitor over a wall. And when Dwalin’s ‘interests’ were attacked in the library by an over _amorous_ suitor, Dori had been there to crush the dwarf’s hands into mangled creatures even Óin couldn’t put to rights. Óin had injected his own stalker with a rather unpleasant, but mild, poison, allowing him to enjoy his healing duties in peace. Bombur didn’t look at anyone unless they had a pie in hand and Bifur was more than happy to shove unwanted attention down a mineshaft.

            No one was sure what happened to those who showed interest to Dori, just that most were never seen again. And no one knew where Nori was to approach him so no problems there.

            No, the only one having problems at all seemed to be Bilbo’s mindlessly cheery intended. Bofur was just too damn _nice_ and too damn in love to realize he needed to lay someone out for encroaching on Bilbo’s territory. Adding insult to injury was the sheer lack of available time the two had to be together. Between their individual tasks and the long days they were pulling to restore Erebor, now for more than just a home but so they could finally begin their life together, there had been next to no time with each other. Bilbo saw _Bombur_ more than her intended, and as much as she enjoyed her soon to be brother (and he his little sister), he wasn’t _quite_ the dwarf she was yearning for, so sorry. They’d gone from being together on a near constant basis, to being lucky to see each other in the halls on a biweekly basis. Any time they managed to carve time for themselves it was invariably checkered with their exhaustion or interrupted by Elfish envoy or a cave-in.

            So was it any surprise the tiny Burglar (after running rings around herself and browbeating Thorin into not being a complete ass for once, in order to steal this lunch hour to surprise her intended) had found herself sitting atop a ridiculously large and blonde bearded dwarrowdam, turning the bitch’s face into tenderized steak after finding the creature trapping her own Bofur against a wall, his hat snatched off his head and crumpled upon a foreign square one, and attacking his face with her own? Bilbo would argue vehemently that none of this was her fault at all, if the little slut had stayed away from what was clearly not hers she’d still have her braids and her face wouldn’t be so reminiscent of ground chuck. It didn’t seem Dwalin was half as entertained by this interpretation of events as he was the one who’d had to eventually pull the hissing Burglar off her victim. Tossing her over his shoulder, he’d groused about “half-crazed betroths,” and how, “Dís ‘ad better get a shake on it iff’n they were hopin’ to keep the entirety of the bloody single population safe.”

            She’d been too caught in the roaring in her head to pay too much attention to this, and when Thorin’s annoyed growl of, “What’s happened now!?” hit her already raw nerves she’d let loose a war cry and began destroying his office. Seeing his error the King ran out the door and began bellowing for his sister and the Halfling’s damn family. The silence that resulted in the wake of her attack allowed some semblance of sanity to return to Bilbo, and thus she was allowed to reevaluate her life choices. Reflection was rather cruel however, as she instantly looked back on Bofur’s shocked continence as Dwalin had carted her away from the crime scene. He’d been standing against the wall staring after her, Bifur not too far away with a similar expression, though his was melting a bit faster towards ungodly humor. Three halls down, she’d identified the loud bellowing as Bifur’s laughter, though she’d been in no mental state to assimilate the knowledge.

            So here she was, trying to keep it together as her nerves ran rampant through her. She understood with every fiber of her being what she’d done was just _wrong_. It was not proper, it was not hobbitish, it was not _her_. And Bofur was probably disgusted with the hoyden reaction, and he had every right to be. He would probably call her to account for herself soon, and he’d have every right to expect an apology, and voice any disappointment he had in her. Didn’t she trust him? Was her love so shallow and unsure she would seek to destroy anyone who tried to pull them apart? After everything they’d been through, didn’t she realize he’d never willingly hurt her in such a fashion?

            The long and short answer was yes, she did know he wouldn’t hurt her, she had no delusions about that, and she’d told him as much on the field of the dead upon their reunion all those many months ago. Didn’t stop her from having an unhealthy, unhobbit, improper _need_ to eviscerate any who would disrespect her claim on the dwarf. He was _hers_ damnit, and everyone better damn well keep their bloody paws off him.

            She was so deep in her thoughts she didn’t realize someone had come into the room until she found herself staring into very large and familiar chocolate eyes. She stared mutely for a moment as Bofur settled himself against the, now heavily scarred, wooden desk in front of her plush chair. His lips kept twitching at the corners as he leaned in a bit to tap a finger against the brim of the flabby headgear on her brow, “It really does suit ya lass. Not sure this does though.” The miner reached down and grasped the tightly gripped hands and slowly unwound them from around the blonde braid. When there was another one clenched inside her tight little fists the smile fighting for space on his face won out and his grin glowed as he tossed the offending pieces of trash onto the desk and turned the bruised knuckles up to his mouth for soothing.

            Wide amber eyes watched the action; reveling in the feel of lips so long missed they were almost as foreign as they were familiar. Said tawny turned up to catch melted brown ones as their owner announced in no uncertain terms, “I don’t regret it. I mean, I regret any embarrassment I caused you… and the damage to Thorin’s office… and maybe having kicked Dwalin in the stomach. But I don’t regret teaching that _beast_ not to touch what belongs to _me_!”

            There was a spark in Bofur’s eyes, and a tightening in his body and face that Bilbo hadn’t actually seen before. She didn’t know the label for it, only that it caused something deep in her to shiver and flame into existence. His hands had just tightened, and were beginning to draw her forward when the office door opened behind her, causing the lass to spin her head around, and Bofur shoved his face into the side of her neck, growling about “ruddy fools interruptin’ somethin’ tha was no their bloody business,” before looking up and demanding, “Wha’ the hell is it now?!”

            Even realizing it was Thorin standing in the doorway didn’t phase her miner as he continued to glare right back at the glowering King as he came into the room, “Is it safe to enter my own cursed office? I’m merely trying to run a Kingdom, I apologize if this is getting in the way of your bloody courtship.”

            “As you should be,” Bofur responded cheekily as he leaned back against the desk, though his hands hadn’t dropped Bilbo’s for even a second. The glower intensified as Thorin walked further into the room with Dís and Balin, followed by his nephew’s, Bombur, and Bifur. Dwalin and Nori bringing up the rear and closing the portal as they all arranged themselves around the pair. Dwalin stayed by the door as Thorin and the lads walked behind the desk. Bifur grabbed the neck of Bofur’s tunic and dragged him beside the chair Bilbo sat in as Bombur came to stand behind him smiling like someone had just told him he could eat the evenings entire stock of desert. Dís and Nori stood on the other side of Bilbo, the princess urging her up to her feet, looking both annoyed and amused simultaneously. Nori merely rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “about bloody time.” Balin came to stand in front of the desk, placing a sheaf of lettering on the desk with an inkwell and quill. Stepping back he gave Thorin a nod and sent Bilbo a reassuring smile.

            With his typical benevolence and grace the Dwarf King glared down at the Burglar and toymaker, “By the powers vested in me as King Under the Mountain, Thorin, Son of Thráin, Son of Thrór, and over all concerned citizen of Erebor, I pronounce you married. Now sign the damn contract and I expect all jealous mauling, beating, and general disposal of the single populace of the kingdom to cease. Save the occasional instances of actual insult or threat of bodily harm.” Nodding to the pair he whooshed out of the room with Dwalin as the guard laughed at his childhood friend, “Don’ burry ‘em in romance o’ sentiment there lad!”

            Bilbo found herself being hugged breathless by the Durin heirs before they both kissed her cheeks and congratulated her as they ran from the room after their Uncle. Turning to her right she saw Dís glaring after her ridiculous brother and Nori clutching the desk to stop himself from falling. To her left were a rather smug Bifur and Bombur, and her Bofur, just standing staring at her, that spark back in his eyes from before. It was then she realized his hands had worked their way up to her wrists, but before she could puzzle his intentions Balin stepped forward and offered her the pen. “Now if you’ll just sign here under your witnesses. I took the liberty of calling Lady Dís and Master Nori in to stand for you; seeing as your own family couldn’t be here, and we couldn’t very well have Bombur and Bifur stand for both you and Bofur.” Only then did she realize what she was looking at. This was a marriage contract, her official claim to Bofur and his to her. They were finally married. There was the space for her signature under Dís and his under Bifur. They’d be married with a flick of a wrist.

            “Of course, we’ll have an official ceremony and reception as planned later. But for once my ridiculous older brother may have actually been right. You should both have been officially each others months upon months ago,” Dís’s smile was happily chagrined as she wrapped her little hobbit friend in an embrace.

            “And it might have the added benefit of lessening Óin’s workload, now that it’s official,” Nori chimed in with a snort as he came in for his own hug. They’d been brought together over the journey as colleagues and that had been a strong base for an even stronger friendship. He’d be happier seeing the lass in Bofur’s care. If nothing else, it would be harder to kidnap the tiny lass with a trained warrior sleeping next to and across the hall from her. It was unfortunate that was still a concern but what could you do?

            “What are you talking about? I can’t see how one dwarrowdam would cause such a disruption in Óin’s healing wings,” Bilbo was beyond confused, they made it seem as though she was maiming citizens every other hour.

            Bifur snorted behind her as Bombur and Bofur both blushed under the sudden scrutiny from Dís and Nori. As delicately as possible Dís explained, “You’re not without your own suitors, darling,” as she patted her hand and raised a brow at the less than remorseful Bifur.

            At her continued confusion Nori smiled his lascivious smirk that never failed to put Bilbo on high alert (and Bofur stiffen as he fought the urge to punch the cocky bastard. And though the otherwise distracted Bilbo never caught him, Nori knew exactly what was going through the miner’s mind, the ass.) “Haven’ made any new friends have ya dear? Did ya think that was on accident?”

            Now that it was being pointed out to her, Bilbo started to realize just how often she’d found herself in the midst of friendly conversation of the last few months, only to be pulled away by Bombur. And when she returned her new acquaintance would be suspiciously absent. Turning to her new family she saw the guilt in the brothers’ eyes and the blatant satisfaction in Bifur’s. Bofur caught her stare and straightened up and crossed his own arms in a stance that clearly said he regretted nothing. Warmth surged through her at the understanding that she wasn’t the only one aggravated by the lack of official claim in their relationship. With a sinful little smirk and a flourish she signed her marriage contract and offered the quill to her new husband.

            With a wide smile he snagged the writing utensil from her hand and hastily scrawled his name across the bottom next to her own before grabbing her wrist once more and levering her up and onto his shoulder as he beat a hasty retreat out the office and didn’t stop till the pair were firmly ensconced in their bedroom. Not much sleep was had that night, and Bofur was given one more _very_ good reason to think how his hat suited his little wife so well.

            The whole next week was laid aside for a honeymoon of sorts. Bifur taking over the mines all his own while Dís and Balin moved to help Thorin with the Elf and Men negotiations.

            Bilbo was called in by the end of the first day when Dís not only threatened to skewer King Thranduil, but had also given her brother a concussion for being a, “weed brained, troll buggering, orc rutting, jackass.” Sometime Bilbo wasn’t sure which Durin sibling was worse.


End file.
